Not My Slave
by Niagra Falling
Summary: The sorcerer and the girlsquire, alone.... AlannaRoger fic, AUish oneshot, although not the first of AlannaRoger fics from me. Rating T, although could possibly be a very light M for safety.


This piece was inspired by the prompt of the 31days LJ community _Not My Slave/ You're missing the point, you're not my little pet_. Add it to the act that I've been dying to write an Alanna/Roger fic for ages and you get this. Thanks to Lally (Saeleth) for the great beta, you improved it muchly. 

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alanna, Roger, or any of Tamora Pierce's characters or worlds. I'm not even sure if I created the Alanna/Roger ship, that may have been in an old SFF challenge at the Dove long before this. This entire fanfic stems from a gift fic Lally wrote for me, so technically I don't even own the idea. **

"So you did get away after all." The Conte Duke looks up at the girl-squire.

"What does it look like? I'm standing right here in front of you, you foul-" He walks over to her and cuts her off by cupping her chin in his hand.

"None of that now, my darling." She stiffened, "don't call me that."

He raises one elegant brown-black eyebrow, "then you don't order me around, Lady Alanna of Trebond."

"Don't call me _that _either." Alanna is trembling.

"But it's what you are. Squire Alan is a lie. Tell me, my lady, does my cousin know of your true gender?" He sits on his chair, bringing her with him.

She blushes. "Yes, when the- the Ysandir and the Black City, they read my mind and one of them she- well, she vanished my clothes."

"What a lovely _surprise_ for Jonathan." He says silkily.

The girl scowls, eyes flashing purple fire. "Pervert. Because I'm sure you'd love to be in his place, Roger."

"As an ignorant prince? No. As for you Alanna, back then, you were skinnier and not half a woman. Hardly my type"

She drew herself up, insulted by his rough appraisal of her looks. "As an advisor to King Jasson once said, all cats are gray in the dark. And that's what _you _seem to believe with me. Or else why would you have me come here almost every night?"

He arched an eyebrow again, always courtly. "Why, dearest girl, I would think that you are starting to- gods forbid- like me. Or why _would _you care about what I say?"

Her face has slowly been getting redder and redder, and her breathing has increased in speed "Do you think I _want _to be here? Do you think I like being- being almost assaulted by you night after night? And what was with the rope last week?" 

"I don't honestly _care_ if you want to be here, Alanna of Trebond. If I remember correctly, which I am sure I do, you initiated the sexual part of our deal. _I _simply wished for information." He is playing the innocent, playing with her.

"I was drunk. Besides, Roger, you gave me the wine in the first place."

"You accepted it, Alanna."

How does he manage to do this, turn everything she says to him against her insome way? So smoothly manipulative, turning the tables in his favor each time.

"I- oh, come off of it. You were the one that continued the- thing" She says, seeming exasperated with this conversation, and possibly a little embarrassed.

"I never turn down anything good."

A twisted compliment. Like all that he gives to her.

"I'm leaving." She turns around hotly, flushed.

He caught her hand as she turns away from him.

"No, you're not." He tells her firmly.

Her voice is quiet, cold and commanding in a way that he wouldn't ordinarily expect of her. "Yes, I am. Roger, let go of my hand." She sighs and pulls, but he won't let her go. "Please?"

His response is simple. "No."

"I'm my own person, and I dictate my life." Her voice is nearly a whisper, not the shout that he had expected from her. He doesn't respond, but he yanks on the hand in his grasp. It is like something out of a play- Alanna whirls towards him like they are dancing. She is entirely in his grasp, and she fights it.

But the grown sorcerer is stronger than a young female squire. She stays in his arms.

"Let me GO!" The last word is a shriek.

"Shh, now. And no, I won't let you go my dear."

"Stop it!" She tries to kick him and fails as he has caught her leg in an iron grip.

"Do I need to tie you down again?" She stills, and whispers, "pervert."

Roger mentally tucks this away as something useful to know- the girl does not like to be tied.

"So you'll be good?" Roger inquires of her.

He has beaten her, for now, he thinks. He knows that she will return the next day full of fire and ready for another battle, but he will win. He _always _wins.

Like he said before, he will never down anything good.

"What do you want?" she asks harshly. In spite of this, he sees a few tears streak down her face as she tries to blink the rest away.

Roger reminds himself that she is still a girl, and for all her valor and chivalry she is still a girl and can be scared. Maybe he should be gentler sometimes, but he is not by nature a gentle person. Besides, he has been going at her like this for months, years even. Since she was a page, long before his worthless cousin Jon knew her secret.

Why was he getting all sentimental (for him) over this child?

"Do you have anything useful?" Roger asks her.

"Not really. Nothing from Gary or Raoul, or- or Jon. Just boasts about Lady Delia and how they'll "get her" from all three." She sounds disgusted.

"Alex told me as much." He studies her face, remembers her pause as she says Jon. There is something there in her face. What if- "Alanna, do you love my cousin?" he asks softly, catching her off guard.

She starts. "What? No! Of course not!" She struggles to get out of his grasp again, for somehow through this whole thing he has gotten her onto his velvet-clad lap.

"Really?" He stretches the word out, sounding disbelieving.

"He wouldn't want me anyway," she mutters, looking down.

"Oh, so you do have feelings for him?" He has hit gold again, for this is even more points in her that he can chisel away at.

"How could I? He wouldn't look at me, and of course I am unfortunately involved with _you_." Alanna slumps.

Roger shifts, "how is it unfortunate, my dear?"

"Jon saw the marks from the rope on my wrist. He wondered-" she fidgets.

"I assume you lied?"

"What would you expect? Of course! Do you think I want the whole Court to know of this affair, or whatever the world it is? And the fact that I'm a girl-"

"We all have our little secrets, Alanna."

"You and I foremost among the rest. I don't know anything about you, except you have a penchant for odd things in bed and you're a conniving-"

"Stop with the insults. You probably know much more than you think you do, my lioness."

"Lioness? What was that?"

"It's what I think you are. You fight to the end, even when you've been defeated, captured, and enslaved."

"I am _not _your slave, Roger. Nor am I your whore, or pet, or _anything else_."

"Of course not, my dear. You come here willingly- under threat of blackmail, but willingly. And you fight. It's your nature, lioness"

She, unconsciously, leans on his chest.

"Please stop with the nicknames, Roger."

But the name of a proud, fighting creature- lioness- suits her. It is what she is, what she will become. She is his pet lioness, his girl-squire. His.

"Lioness," he whispers, looking down at the girl in his arms.

**Hope you liked it. Please drop me a review :) Note, the remarks about rope was inspired by some of the emails and chats Kally (Carthaki Kalasin) and I have had, so I'm sure she'll love that I put that in a fic. Thanks again to Lally for beta-ing. **


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